Jeez I realize now that I need to go to the Safe House. It’s been six years (?) since I’ve been there. It was for me and Izer’s birthday a few back at least. The password may be the simple phrase “I’m looking for a safe house.” After you know who asked last time I’ve been thinking about that very question. Spy’s Demise, oh man that is an awesome drink. I just broke my glass a few weeks ago.

If you are near the Milwaukee, Wisconsin area man you got to go. A word to the redhead. On the week end you should make a reservation. Which you can do here. Another thing if you go on a slow day, the password is a moot point. Or for that matter before 8:00pm.

I am going to have to tread very carefully here. When I wrote Whatever just a few days ago I never thought something like this would happen. Jesus I don’t even know how to begin.

I have to admit I have been hoping for this. Despite whatever happened in the past between friends, I’ve hoped I’d hear from lost friends again. This is such a strange case. And this isn’t any of your business. Not this time. I’ve been pretty good at laying my “life” open for all to see. No this time it’s between me and her.

Here’s Ericka in the GuestBook (wow I haven’t said that in a while):

What the hell is this disallowed word crap? I wrote you a fucking message, but I am now having to write it fucking over. This really pisses me off. I wrote to you to ask if you knew about the Safehouse in Milwaukee. My boyfriend and some of his friends from school wanna go. You have been there before and I was wondering if you knew the password. Isn’t it something like ‘I have a safe house’? That’s what all the guys are saying but, as any normal woman – I don’t take anything they say as an absolute truth. You can post your answer and I’ll just check back in a few days, or you can e-mail me. Whatever. Also…I am sorry to hear about your grandmother, Betty. I hope your mom is okay. Anyway, MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Here’s a point by point to what my favorite redhead had to say. By the way the old GuestBook is back. No censorship.

What the hell is this disallowed word crap? I wrote you a fucking message, but I am now having to write it fucking over.

With a wave of my magic wand your cuss words are back!

I wrote to you to ask if you knew about the Safehouse in Milwaukee. My boyfriend and some of his friends from school wanna go. You have been there before and I was wondering if you knew the password. Isn’t it something like ‘I have a safe house’?

I honestly never knew the password. You can punch the time clock or even pull the right book off the shelf to get in. That is if it is the same.

That’s what all the guys are saying but, as any normal woman – I don’t take anything they say as an absolute truth.

I’ve never thought as you as a normal woman. Unique is the word I would use. But hey that’s just me. What do I know? As far as the truth or even absolute truth? Well the truth hasn’t been something I’ve been good at with you.

You can post your answer and I’ll just check back in a few days, or you can e-mail me. Whatever. Also…I am sorry to hear about your grandmother, Betty. I hope your mom is okay. Anyway, MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Answer posted. If I get the gumption I’ll send you an e-mail. Whatever is what I say. My mom is dealing with it. It is good to hear from you. It really is. I’m sorry things worked out the way they did. Maybe one of these days we can go have a beer. Just as two old friends, that other bullshit… well it’s in the past. Water under the bridge. Just a thought.

Hooray! A GuestBook entry, from Mike my Night Audit cohort. Here is what young Mike had to say:

i really enjoyed the story about the FDM, ha! ha! my girlfriend laughed. Anyway, my email is messed up so i am gonna give you my girlfriends instead, um… have a good night at work!

Man I aim to please. At least some of the times. But as my oldman say “you can only please some of the people some time, and jerk the rest off.” Okay that’s not something my oldman has said. Actually it was Robin Williams.

Hey I have a new Poll up over there on the right. The question is what character would you be? The choices are: Doctor Who, Han Solo, Indiana Jones, Harry Potter, and a Girly Vampire. This Poll is of course an attempt by me to poke some fun at some of these goth peoples.

And if you are one of those goth kinda types I have this to say to you. Don’t get all bent out of shape with anything I say. It’s not worth your time or mine. If you do get bent out of shape send me an e-mail or sign the Guestbook so I can taunt you a second time.

So I’m chatting with a guy who signed the GuestBook back on April 18th and he thinks I’m a girl. Now I wonder do I write like a chick? I would think my habit of referring to women as chicks would get my gender straight to people who read the site.

The conversation was unique to say the least. I’m all for flights of fancy. But jesus christ have a foot in the doorway of reality. Sorry that’s a reference for my delight alone. But then isn’t this site all just one inside joke to myself?

So anyway I could never run around telling people I’m two hundred and fifty year old poet who is mistaken for a vampire hunter. It’s just all kinds of silly. But if it gets your rocks off, hey don’t let me stop you. Personally the idea of traveling in time with lots of female companions while playing it like you have no sexual preference one way or another kind of get me going. But then I’ve always dug the good Doctor. But pretending I’m Doctor Who won’t get me laid.

Speaking about flights of fancy I have to say I’m looking forward to the Lord Of The Rings movie that opens up today. But I am worried about the flick living up to the books. I was worried about stuffing these long books into a two hour movie. But I guess the first flick is just about three hours long. So maybe it will be ok.

That last one was maybe just a little harsh? Then again maybe it wasn’t. I wonder if you reality tv fucking junkies got off on my tale of poor old grandma?

Not that I have anything against reality tv junkies. I just can’t understand what you people see in that shit. I’ve decided I’m not going to handle this site with kid gloves anymore.

Just use some common sense and everything will be cool. For instance there is no more warnings about signing the GuestBook. If you sign it and I think it’s funny or rude in an intelligent way, I’m going to write about it here. With excerpts and all that kind of thing.

So if you do write something to me or sign the GuestBook throw a line in there saying that it’s a private message. Not that it’s an issue here as of late. I just felt like it should be said.

Also the comment function is kind on the fritz. Again not that it’s a frequently used feature. Just so you know.

Well since the last time I wrote, I’ve tried a few times to throw up something. Heh, throw up. I think I’m going to run with that. Let’s see on the 14th I went out with the Isley’s and did some hostile karaoke/drinking.

I haven’t had a good puke in a while. You see I’m kinda fucked in the head when it comes to the vomiting after drinking. Or for that matter during drinking. It is a refreshing kind of thing for me.

Sick but true. I did a rather hostile take of a Beatle tune and Sinatra. I was really hostile when I did Margaritavile. And I did Margaritavile my way. Instead of singing “I know it my fault” or some whiny shit like that, I scream out “it’s her damn fault.”

But I was in one of those moods. You see according to a brain trust of cluster fucks called doctors my grandma has any where from two months to a year. The fucking quacks I wish they would at least get together and all be on the same fucking page when they make shit up.

Well that’s enough anger for one morning. Back to work. I hate all of these fucks that work here. Except for Stanley.

As it usually goes with these kind of events in my life there is one constant. No matter how bad it gets or how hard I take these things I always can count on a few people. It’s the usual suspects.

I need to again say that I don’t know what I would do some times if it wasn’t for Mr. Isley. Scratch that, make it all the Isley’s. Troy came with me to go see Grandma in the hospital on Monday. He went with me down to the bop afterwards. No words were spoken regarding the subject at hand. Again as usual words were not necessary.

But I just can’t possibly ever repay them for all the times they have been there for me. It’s a huge debt I owe.